Komori Uta
by Tayk
Summary: A Kindaichi Case Files fic. Oneshot. Fukamachi Mitsuru thinks about Asano Yoko in the final moments of his life. Rated for character death.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Kindaichi Case Files or the settings, plots, or characters related to Kindaichi Case Files.  
**Summary: **(Kindaichi Case Files) Fukamachi Mitsuru reflects on Asano Yoko in the final moments of his life.  
**A/N: **I usually don't write this type of fic but, eh, everyone needs to write a sappy death fic at least once in their writing career. Another of my "reflections".

NOTE: Just in case you didn't know/forgot, komori uta is Japanese for lullaby.

**Komori Uta**

I was always picked on because of my art. So many times, by so many people, in so many ways, I've been told that my art stinks; that I'm useless, a loser; that no one would spare a second thought for me if I died. Not even my parents. It's a sad fact of life - if a person is told the same thing too many times, they start to believe it. I probably would have tried to kill myself a long time ago if it wasn't for my drawings, my paintings. If I didn't have them, I don't know what would have happened. But it's like, I don't know, like they _needed_ me or something.

When I began attending Shinokura Academy, I had no reason to believe that things would be any different. For a while, they weren't. I rarely attended classes, preferring to lock myself in an unused room and draw and paint. But then...

_Flashback_

_"Fukamachi-kun!" I started, clutching my sketchbook tightly and spinning to face whomever had walked in on me. It was Asano-sensei, one of my teachers. I admit that I harbored a small crush on her, even then - and why not? Asano-sensei was young and pretty and kind. Well, kind, once you got past the cold exterior._

_"I-I'm sorry!" I stuttered, standing to leave. I knew that I shouldn't be skipping class as often as I did and probably wasn't supposed to be in this room at all. But Asano-sensei didn't seem angry, just surprised. She smiled when she saw the sketchbook in my arms._

_"It's alright. What's in your sketchbook?" I blushed and nervously tried to say that it was nothing of importance, but she interrupted. "May I see?"_

_What could I do? I handed my sketchbook over to her. She stared with wide eyes and began flipping through it. "These are really good! Did you draw all of these, Fukamachi-kun?"_

_I couldn't help but smile a little as she handed the sketchbook back. "Uh, yeah."_

_"I never realized that you had such talent!" she praised. My smile widened and I laughed a little. It was a good feeling, to know that not _everyone_ thought my artwork stunk._

_End of Flashback_

After that, I attended class more often. It was hard to adjust, but Yoko was there for me when I needed to talk. I told her my dream of, one day, getting into an art college. I showed her my drawings. She told me her honest, unbiased opinion. She didn't sugar-coat it, or fill it with barbs. Sometimes, this was criticism, but she was never harsh and always made suggestions on how I could improve. She was always encouraging me, smiling. She was my friend. My crush on her grew to the point where I could hardly bear to hide it.

_Flashback_

_"Hey, you gonna show us your newest piece of crap or what?" demanded Furuya, smirking at me. Furuya was the bully of the school, along with his lackeys. They loved to pick on me. The lackeys, Muroi and Nito, stood behind him. I'll admit, I was scared, but I refused to show them my sketchbook. I didn't want to be laughed at anymore. They destroyed it, tore the pages out and ripped them up. They slashed my canvas and Muroi whacked me a few times, to make sure that I didn't get cocky again. Then they left. Sobbing, I collapsed onto the stool. My work... all my work... gone._

_Yoko came in a minute later and rushed to me. I swallowed my tears, though it was difficult, unwilling as I was to let her see me crying. I put a hand to the forming bruise on my face and forced myself to smile._

_"What happened? Who did this?" I looked up at her and she gasped. "Fukamachi-kun, what happened? Your face!"_

_"It's - It's nothing," I forced out, doing my best to sound cheerful. My voice shook. Dash it all. She didn't believe me._

_"Did Furuya do this? I'll have him expelled!"_

_I could feel tears in my eyes again, against my will, but I forced myself to keep smiling. "It... it's all right. It's okay. You don't have to do that. I'm... I'm not good with people and... and anyway, I'm j-just... sort of a loser..." What she did next surprised me. A lot. She reached out and hugged me tightly._

_"No! That's not true! Fukamachi-kun, you're special!"_

_End of Flashback_

We started meeting at the school, late at night, after that. I told my parents that I was staying at a friend's house. I loved Yoko, so much, and I know that she loved me, too, just as much. A couple of times, I stayed at her house. We were never... _intimate_. We never went past an occasional kiss, but it didn't matter. Our love was deep and strong.

Once, I painted a picture of her when she was asleep. I called it 'Komori Uta'. She was my lullaby. She always calmed me down, cheered me up. She's the last thing I think about before I go to sleep and the first thing to my mind when I wake up. But I knew that, if my Komori Uta was found, Yoko and I would both be in big trouble. Yoko didn't know about my painting. Well, she knew of it - just not that it was her in my picture originally. I had painted over it with oil paints, covering her beautiful face with blunter features and shortening her hair until it was cropped close to her head. One day, when we were safe to be together, I would take off the mask on my Komori Uta and reveal Asano Yoko underneath... perhaps, by that time, it would be Fukamachi Yoko instead.

Today, Furuya and his gang told me to meet them beside the school's big tree in the evening, after everyone had left. I'm still afraid of them, although not as much, so of course I came. Yoko had just gone home and my thoughts buzzed with her. They had brought a stool, I noticed vaguely, and told me to stand on it. I did, my head still filled with my precious lullaby. While I was distracted, they slipped a noose around my neck. That jerked me back to the present in an instant. I panicked and slipped off of the stool.

My hands flew to the noose at my neck, to stop it from tightening all the way. I craned my head upward, desperate to escape the imminent death that awaited me. I knew that if I relaxed even the slightest bit, it would kill me, extinguishing my life with casual ease. Through the fog and fear in my mind came an image of Yoko, smiling and beautiful. I couldn't help it. I relaxed. The rope tightened around my throat, choking me. The air in my lungs forced its way out my mouth as a strangled cry for help. But it was too late. There was darkness rising quickly behind my eyes. As it consumed me, I heard a lullaby and hoped that Yoko would take the oil paint off of my Komori Uta.

---


End file.
